In the Grand Scheme of Things
by AriaAdagio
Summary: Nick, LaCroix, and a really confused psychiatrist. Go figure...


IN THE GRAND SCHEME OF THINGS  
  
Standard disclaimers apply. These characters aren't mine,   
except for Dr. Frodel, I'm just messing with their lives a   
bit. Permission is granted to archive on fkfanfic.com, the   
ftp site, and the cotk site. Thanks to my beta reader, Lois   
Frankel, not for beta reading this time, but for the idea   
for this story. When I was rather tangled up in finishing   
Rage, she jokingly mentioned LaCroix and Nick seeking some   
sort of vampire counseling, and well, this story was born.  
  
As with all of my short stories, this has not been beta read   
except by me, so be warned :)   
  
Comments, questions, feedback, and all that good stuff may   
be sent to Diane Harris at aria5@vt.edu!  
  
IN THE GRAND SCHEME OF THINGS  
  
"I can't believe you talked me into this..." LaCroix   
mumbled, excessively irritated and unhappy, providing what   
could only be classified as a very nasty glare towards his   
blond protégé.  
  
"Oh relax. Maybe it'll help..." Nick whispered back with a   
sidelong glance, obviously trying to speak quietly enough so   
that the other individual in the room wouldn't hear their   
exchange.  
  
"Nicholas, I very much doubt that," LaCroix hissed back, a   
menacing leer erupting across his face. "Are you sure I   
can't have him for lunch?"  
  
"LaCroix!" Nick glared at him, shifting heavily in his   
overly plush chair so that he was in a perfect position to   
pounce if need be.  
  
"Just kidding..." But he wasn't. Not really. He stared   
at the dark-haired man sitting across from them at his   
oversized executive desk, still too intent on consolidating   
his notes to really pay attention to them. Such a   
delectable morsel and damn it all, he couldn't indulge.   
LaCroix groaned, glancing sidelong at the door that was so   
close, and yet so far away.  
  
He was trapped...  
  
The man finally looked up, his eyes framed with the ugliest   
pair of tortoise-shell glasses that LaCroix could ever   
recall having set eyes upon. "So. You must be Nick, I   
already talked with you on the phone, and you're..." he   
paused, looking down at his notepad, "LaCroix, the father?"  
  
LaCroix nodded mutely. God. Of all the things he'd ever   
considered himself stooping to, this was just not one of   
them. He glanced at the door again with longing in his   
eyes. Nope. He couldn't make it before Nicholas would   
notice and stop him.  
  
"All right then, I'm Dr. William Frodel. Let's get   
started, shall we..."  
  
LaCroix sighed a terribly long sigh. Of all the stupid,   
mundane, idiotic ideas Nicholas had ever had, this one took   
the cake... URGH! This was probably even worse than the   
time Nicholas had gotten them locked in the basement of...   
  
No. Don't go there.  
  
"I understand that you two are having some..." Dr. Frodel   
paused and held up his fingers to imply air quotes,   
"differences of opinion..." Dr. Frodel's voice rose in   
question, right along with his eyebrows.  
  
Nick nodded enthusiastically. LaCroix stared at the ground   
like it was the most interesting thing since those damnable   
'moving pictures' that Janette had been so fond of when   
they'd first come out.  
  
"Well, Nick, why don't you explain what the problem is?"  
  
"He's obsessed with me! He won't leave me alone, I've moved   
all over the globe and he keeps following me, even after   
I've changed identities... He's like a bloodhound!" Nick   
complained, growing more incensed the more he spoke.  
  
LaCroix rolled his eyes, so much that his head practically   
lolled right off his neck. If Nicholas would just stop   
running away, then he wouldn't have this problem! Duh!  
  
Dr. Frodel politely cleared his throat. "LaCroix? Do you   
have anything to add?"  
  
"I think this is stupid..." LaCroix stated in response, his   
tone flat and cold. Damn but that doctor looked so   
deliciously scrumptious. His stomach was growling furiously   
at the thought of having Ph.D. for dinner...  
  
Dr. Frodel stared at him for a moment, obviously startled   
by LaCroix's admission. "Well, LaCroix, it seems as if you   
have some unresolved anger here. Do you want to tell me why   
you're feeling this way?" he asked curiously.  
  
LaCroix stared back at him. "Actually, to tell you the   
truth, I'm rather hungry..." he responded with a glare.   
  
"LaCroix!" Nick hissed, trying to silence LaCroix before   
things got out of hand.  
  
Dr. Frodel put a hand up, successfully quieting Nick. "I've   
got some crackers. Would you like to have a few? I'd like   
everyone here to be as comfortable as possible..."  
  
LaCroix growled. "No." Crackers! What did this   
psychiatrist think he was? A parrot?  
  
Dr. Frodel again looked surprised by LaCroix's bluntness.   
"Um... Well then, why don't you tell me why you follow Nick   
around?"   
  
"He is my son!" LaCroix exclaimed. As if this concept   
needed any explaining... Holding back a growl with utmost   
restraint, he stared Dr. Frodel in the eye. Will not eat   
the psychiatrist... Will not eat the psychiatrist... "He   
belongs to me..."  
  
"I do not!" Nick responded quickly, obviously getting into   
this whole maudlin concept of 'therapy', but Dr. Frodel   
hushed him again, obviously more interested in LaCroix for   
the moment.  
  
"LaCroix, it sounds like you've got an over-attachment to   
your son..." Frodel began slowly, pausing briefly. "How   
were you treated by your own parents?"  
  
LaCroix sighed. "They trained me to be a soldier..."  
  
Frodel smiled in understanding. "Ah, so you were in the   
military then?"  
  
"Yes. I was a general."  
  
"And you don't think that maybe that need to be in charge   
is rubbing off on your relationship with your son?" Dr.   
Frodel asked, his voice containing an air of sympathy that   
was so incredibly fake LaCroix wanted to strangle the man.   
  
He hated sympathy in general, but _fake_ sympathy was the   
ultimate sin. Who the Hell would want to imitate such a   
useless emotion?  
  
"No," LaCroix replied rather gruffly.  
  
"Ok..." Dr. Frodel looked at LaCroix suspiciously. "Well   
Nick, why don't you continue?"  
  
Nick looked relieved that he was finally being allowed to   
speak. "Well, as I was saying, he chases me everywhere. He   
even came back after I killed him!"  
  
"You killed him?"  
  
Nick scratched his chin. "Well I thought I did..." He   
turned to LaCroix. "Just how _did_ you survive that?"  
  
LaCroix opened his mouth to launch an incredibly witty   
insult back at his son, but Frodel began before he could   
think of one. "Uh huh. So you're angry that LaCroix is   
being so possessive of you, and you acted out in aggression   
because of it," Frodel attempted to summarize, scribbling   
notes wildly on his clip board.  
  
"Yeah, I suppose..." Nick began hesitantly. "Although it's   
not just _me_ LaCroix tries to take control of. He even   
tried to kill my best friend too..." he added as an   
afterthought.  
  
"Hah, more like lov..." LaCroix began with a sneer, but   
Frodel cut him off.  
  
"Wait, wait," Frodel said, shaking his head back and forth   
as he raced to cross out whatever scribbles he'd made on his   
page. "So as I'm to understand this, you tried to kill   
LaCroix and L..."  
  
"Well only after he tried to kill me..." Nick added quickly   
in his own defense.  
  
"He tried to kill you?" Frodel's eyes were widening slightly   
as he shook his pen and continued to scribble on the   
sheet... In fact, LaCroix noted with a slight smile, that   
the good Dr. Frodel was beginning to sweat.  
  
"Yeah, with a meat cleaver," Nick responded absently.   
  
Dr. Frodel swallowed in disbelief. "A meat cleaver?" he   
asked with a heavy gulp, as if his throat was closing up.  
  
Nick blinked at his distress, but didn't seem to realize   
what was causing it. "He was trying to get me to embrace my   
true nature."  
  
"Your true nature?"   
  
LaCroix wanted to laugh at this poor excuse for a therapist.   
The good doctor was on his way to getting shell-shocked. At   
this rate, he would never make it through the session, even   
if LaCroix refrained from snacking on him.  
  
"He thinks I'm a killer..."  
  
"Ok, so let me get this straight..." Dr. Frodel said with   
pure disbelief in his voice. "LaCroix tried to kill you   
with a meat cleaver in an attempt to draw out your supposed   
killer instincts. He failed, so you tried to kill him. You   
failed, and he came back after you, but in the process he   
tried to kill your best friend..."  
  
"His lover..." LaCroix corrected with a smirk, despite   
Nick's murderous glare.  
  
Dr. Frodel shook his head. "Whatever."  
  
"Yeah, that about sums it up," Nick said matter-of-factly.  
  
"Uh huh," Frodel concluded, looking down at his frantically   
scrawled notes in amazement. He looked from Nick to LaCroix   
and back to Nick. "Will you excuse me for a second?" he   
asked, his voice hoarse.  
  
Nick nodded with a smile, LaCroix just stared.  
  
Dr. Frodel got up hastily and exited the room. With his   
acute hearing, LaCroix could easily pick up what was going   
on outside the small office. "Marie, would you cancel all   
of my appointments for today? I'm going to make a fortune   
with this one..."  
  
LaCroix broke into maniacal gales of laughter.   
  
Perhaps this visit was going to be interesting after all.   
It was certainly better than another boring game of chess.  
  
THE END  
  
And no, I do not claim to know anything about the field of   
psychiatry :) 


End file.
